We Could Be Heroes
by Gabbieee
Summary: "I need you to know that I am so incredibly sorry. I know, these words mean nothing, but I am." Patrick knows he screwed up; what he doesn't know is how to fix it. CharliexPatrick
1. Self-Loather

Hey there c: So after watching The Perks of Being a Wallflower about a hundred thousand times, I decided that I needed to write a fic about it, because, though it is an AMAZING film, one detail was unsatisfactory to me: the CharliexPatrick story was left unfinished. So naturally I had to correct that, if only in a story online. This story will focus on the pairing CharliexPatrick.  
NOTE: This is only chapter 1 of, I dunno, maybe 6 or 7. So pleaseee R&R and let me know if it's worth continuing. c: Thanks!  
-Gabbie  
(PS: As with all stories on here, I own nothing. Though I wish I could tell you otherwise, Patrick does not belong to me. Nor does Charlie. Sigh.)

PATRICK POV

Dear friend,  
I know that you like to write letters. A lot of letters, as you've told me. It seems to be therapeutic for you and, being that I'll take any help I can get right about now, I'll try it. Who knows; maybe it'll do something for me.  
Ha. Good one. As if anything could fix the mess I made.  
I've never been a self-loather. Low self esteem was never an issue of mine...until now. If I've ever hated anyone - and believe me, I have hated quite a few people -, it was a small matter compared to how I feel about myself right now. I fucked up. And no amount of letter writing, no matter how relaxing, is going to change that.  
I know this is absolutely no consolation whatsoever, and it's not like I'm ever gonna even send this letter to you, but I need you to know that I am so, so, so, incredibly sorry. I know, those words mean nothing, but never in my life have I been this sorry. Then again, never in my life have I been so wrong.  
What the fuck am I doing, anyway? This "therapy" is a crock of shit and I know it. This is doing nothing but reminding me that you were the victim, and I am an asshole.  
I'm gonna stop pitying myself now and take a walk. Hopefully I'll get struck by a car or sucked up into a tornado.  
Pathetically, hopelessly, eternally yours,  
Nothing

I paused before writing the sign-off. He never called me "Nothing". I had once told him that, in his writings about Sam and me, he should call me "The Falcon", a name to which he'd taken a liking. Every once in a while, when I wasn't expecting it, he'd use it to get my attention- "Hey, Falcon!"- or when he and I took our car rides to our favorite spot in the park- "Hey, Falcon, look at that!" It was just a joke, of course, but to me, it meant so much more than that. It was like our little secret.  
One of many "our little secret"s.  
So, since it was he that I was writing to, it seemed wrong to sign the letter "Nothing".  
And yet, it was so right. Because that's exactly what I was: nothing. I was nothing to my once-friends, and I was nothing to Sam, but worst of all, I was nothing to Charlie. And in that moment, I was certain that nothing could be worse than that.

End chapter 1

...So yeah. c: Clearly this is only the beginning, because there are many questions left unanswered here, so I would greatlygreatlygreatly appreciate it if you could R&R/let me know if I should keep going with it. I have the rest of the story planned out already, so just let me know what you think.  
Thanks so much!


	2. 711 Run-In

Thank you so much for the positive feedback! c: Here's chapter 2 for ya. Hooray :D  
(Disclaimer: I own nothing. The characters and story on which this is based are not mine.)

Chapter 2

PATRICK POV

Summer vacation has never been so boring. Or hot. Or completely and entirely horrible. I was trying my hardest to be positive, but when I felt like my world had come crashing down around me, optimism was kind of impossible. The weather was awful outside; you'd melt staying out for too long, which meant that I was essentially confined to my room. Sam was away at Penn State (not that she'd want to speak to me at all), and everyone else was gone, too. I was alone. The one person who was still around was-  
I couldn't even bring myself to think his name.  
Despite how cool and comfortable I was in my central air-conditioned bedroom, I decided I needed to get the hell out of my house and take a walk (a decision I'd soon come to regret). So I moped out the door and into town in the sweltering heat, trying to clear my head.  
I arrived at 7/11 after about ten minutes of walking drenched in sweat. I needed water, pronto. I walked through the doors and was almost relieved by the gust of cold air that hit me upon entry to the little store...almost. As good as it felt to be cooled off, one look down to the freezer aisle stopped me dead in my tracks.  
It was Charlie.  
He hadn't seen me - he was too busy picking up an iced tea -, so I jumped behind the magazine stand and hid. Feeling like a complete stalker, I watched him walk over to the cash register and pull out his wallet.  
As though God or the universe or whatever was out there wanted me to suffer, I backed away further into the aisle and, as if on cue, fell right on my ass. I brought down about twenty newspapers and magazines with me, and, startled by the noise, Charlie turned around. We locked eyes in the .84729 seconds that it took him to realize that it was I who had caused the ruckus, and almost immediately his look of shock and concern turned cold and angry. He thanked the cashier quickly and hurried out the door. I scrambled to my feet and jogged after him.  
"Charlie!" I called, and he quickened his pace. "Charlie, seriously, wait up-"  
Charlie spun around on his heels and glowered at me. I stopped running as I reached him. He looked so enraged, wearing an expression I'd never seen on him until the night when it all happened. He was ordinarily so sweet and gentle, but, then again, this was no ordinary moment. Still glaring, he asked me, "Can I help you?"  
This took me my surprise. How could I respond to that? "I just, I, can you- we just- umm-"  
"Patrick," he said to me sternly, "I need you to leave me alone." His expression softened a bit and the Charlie I knew and loved retuned, if only for that moment. "Please."  
I knew I'd fucked up. I fucked up that terrible night (the last time I'd seen him before now), and I fucked up by watching him in 7/11, and I fucked up by trying to talk to him. What had I expected, anyway? That I'd apologize and he'd cry and we'd embrace and live happily ever after? No, that's not what I anticipated at all. And, clearly, it was also not what happened. Not even close.  
I stared at him for a moment, then looked at my feet. "Okay," I told him. I felt the sting of tears filling my eyes, but I couldn't let him see it. I averted my gaze from my shoes to the sky, then to Charlie. Before I could burst into hysterics, I mumbled a quick, "I'm sorry" before turning away to leave.  
Though I'd half hoped he would stop me, he didn't. So I arrived home crying in less time than it had taken me to get there, because I'd practically sprinted, despite the awful heat. I ran up to my room and collapsed on my bed before burying my tear-streaked face in my pillow.  
After I'd allowed myself sufficient time to wallow in despair and self-pity, I got up, wiped my eyes, and sat down at my desk. I didn't know why, but I was overcome with the urge to write again. So I picked up a pen and scribbled a letter to Sam.

Sister,  
I hope everything is well with you. I hope you're enjoying Penn State, and I hope you're making good friends, and I hope you've found a nice guy to sweep you off your feet. You deserve it, sis.  
I'm well aware that nothing I could possibly say to you right now will fix anything, but I have to apologize again. I am so endlessly sorry to have betrayed you. Believe me when I say that if I could take it all back, I would. I could kill anyone who hurts you, but now it's me doing the hurting. I never, ever meant that, Sam. And I am so sorry.  
All my love,  
Patrick

I put my pathetic and useless letter in an envelope and moped downstairs, then out the door. There was a mailbox on the corner, so I dropped the stupid thing in it before walking back inside. Once back inside, I lay down on my bed and fell fast asleep, wishing I could stay sleeping there forever.

End chapter 2

Thanks so much for reading guys! If I get more reviews I promise to update ASAP c: I just need to know that people are interested and that there is a point to writing this story. cx So review please?  
Thank you all!


End file.
